A rich, fine robe of pleasant green
has decked both dale and meadow.
Now wafting breezes warm and preen
each flowerbed fair and hedgerow.
Sun’s light on high
and wood-grove’s sigh,
midst willows waves’ soft thrumming
now tell of summer’s coming.
Their happiness and summer rest
the giddy birds are praising.
From woodland brush, from quiet nest
their joyful song they’re raising.
A hymn mounts high
to reach the sky
from blissful throats now blending,
from flowers and trees ascending.
But Thou, Oh God, who makest earth
so beautiful in summer:
Grant in Thy word I find most worth,
Thy mercies without number.
All flesh is grass
and flowers shall pass
and time all life can sever –
God’s word though lasts for ever.